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Magpie Girl inspired me today with her post about gremlins and chatting right back with solutions. Without further ado, here is my list:
If I had the money and the stones, then I’d quit my job to learn massage therapy and then Holistic Pelvic Care from Tami Lynn Kent. (Then I’d better start saving and researching massage schools.)
If I had a healthy body, then I wouldn’t have to go through all these steps & meditations & journaling & I wouldn’t have this trail of pain & unruly emotions & relational faux pas. (Yay! I know how to help myself feel better, and I have all the resources, and I’ll deepen my relationship with myself all whilst feeling healthier! It’s just baby steps a day toward health. And I can do that.)
If I’d been born to more self-aware people, then I wouldn’t have all these issues. (And yet, I’d still have issues. We all have issues. And these people are my mirror for my own growth. And they love me like mad.)
If I’d saved money all those years at home, then I wouldn’t be so worried about money now. (Better late than never, my love, so look at the money you can save, and start there.)
If I just had this book, then I know it would all be better. (And then it’ll take me months to read it, and I won’t do the exercises because I’ll think I’ll read it again, and all the while, I alone know how I can help me best. And ps: you can send that money right into savings.)
If he would just be gentler, more aggressive, more loving, more _____, then things would be better. (And honey, you could be gentler, too. When you are triggered, it is your responsibility to care for yourself. Practice love!)
If I just had more time to myself, then I could do all these things I want to do. (Maybe, my love, and yet when you do have time, you forget all those things you want to do. Perhaps planning ahead and spending the week excited for your date with yourself would work better.)
If I just had an idea, then I would write more fiction. (Pssssst. You do have ideas. Many about this same character. What’s missing is the writing. Just sayin’.)
Divine Winks
Divine whimsy and fantastic music. I heart Sera Beak.
The Bloggess
Oh, how she cracks me the fuck up.
Yummy dinner
I improvised with tomato slices instead of bread, topped with fresh basil. Mmm.
Susan Sarandon! Bull Durham! Goddesses!
Loving the Female Body in the most holistic, beautiful way
A bright star in my life right now. Also: I have a crush on Portland, Oregon.
xoxoxo
It isn’t easy to pinpoint when one loses herself.
I’m really not sure when just letting something go turned into faking as a habit.
I know this: it’s fucking hell to look someone you love in the eyes and say, I’ve been changing inside and haven’t told you. I’ve been forcing myself to carry on, when I knew that fundamentally, I am growing into someone new to us both.
And yet, I’m standing on the other edge of that cliff, safe and sound.
Transformed.
Wiser, wilder, and somehow, more innocent.
That doesn’t mean I didn’t sob my heart out and think This Could Never Work. I actually said that, out loud, in all my defensive glory. Or, really, lack of glory.
But once the emotion ran its course and the communication had room to be clear, I found myself hugging the hell out of a man who loves me enough to listen. Even when it feels like I’m gutting him by saying that all our past sex wasn’t really what he thought it was. (Which is grossly overstating the truth. We have a torrid history, to be sure. But the details are complex and personal. And hearing me say I’ve Never Felt So Hot in all my LIFE before January 6, 2010, probably felt like, “All that past sex? Horrid. A lie.” to him. Not true. Just Jan. 6th felt illegally good.) (Yep. Got the date memorized.)
And, I’m grateful to myself, for feeling that I, and my pleasure, am worth speaking up for.
In having a conversation that scared the shit out of me, I allowed myself to be vulnerable, seen and heard, despite my desire to run away and never face him again. I admitted what scared me. And I allowed myself to be loved in ways that make me feel loved.
I also know this: it sucks that sex is so difficult to talk about and be taken seriously. It sucks that there are very few women I know whom I could chat about this with and feel respected, heard, and supported. But for those I can talk to, I am supremely thankful.
What I’ve always thought about sexuality, and am now completely certain, is that it’s fluid. How I expressed myself sexually five years ago may or may not still work for me now. And accepting that as part of life, growth and learning is vital to my relationship with myself and my lover.
That’s where I faltered: I kept quiet when it wasn’t working anymore, rather than exploring how it could work. And you know, maybe that’s where a lot of women falter. Because it is scary to ask a man for more foreplay, much less emotional and spiritual intimacy, too. We’re told and trained and have experienced that men aren’t interested in those areas. That those areas are feminine, and only women get it. And yet, without those areas fulfilled, the physical part of sex is less fulfilling, too. Even for men.
It’s definitely a journey. I want to rest in knowing that things are going to keep getting better, and yet I know that it’s still going to take work and communication and all those parts of sex that I’d been avoiding. It isn’t easy for me to ask for what I want, and I’m starting to see that that’s a theme.
But, of course, I have resources. It could be said that I am a slut for resources.
My most fabulous resources? Myself. My man. Communication.
Then, we have The Resource that’s distracting my mind whilst I remind myself that bills must be paid first.
And I’m still loving on Sheri Winston’s genius.
Mix in some oatstraw infusion, yoga, bellydancing, walking, and long, hot baths then blend until the body feels energized. Relaxed aliveness is what we’re going for here.
And, on the advice of someone in the know, don’t forget the lube.
Love on, people.
I’m in the habit of lying.
Not in a “I was at my friend’s house watching a movie” when truly at the bar sort of lying.
Not, “No, officer, no crack or crack pipes in this car. No, sir.”
More along the lines of: No, I’m fine; Yes, that works for me; Sure! That wasn’t what we talked about, but it’ll be just fine … Those sort of lies. The kind of lie where I shoot out an answer to keep the other person appeased before I even consult with myself. Or even realize that the other person doesn’t need appeasing.
As soon as I say Yes! I’d LOVE to! I feel it in my bones that that isn’t really true. Because I didn’t really even consider my options before agreeing.
These lies apply to a lot of valuable areas in my life. Dinner, What To Do This Weekend, How I Feel in a Disagreement, if I’d really prefer the heater on….and a biggie: Sex.
It’s crazy, but for a while (which means most of my sexual career) I knew I was missing some of the dreamy adjectives you hear related to sex…. but I didn’t have a clue what to do differently, so I didn’t say a damn thing. Nor did I realize how deeply being quiet affected my body, my soul, my life.
Thankfully, little lightbulbs of possibility started showing up:
The Five Hour, Enlightening Conversation at the end of 2009.
The Return of Desire by Gina Ogden.
The ridiculously intense journaling, which included ranting, blaming, complaining, lamenting, designing What I Might Be Missing and finally, ownership & responsibility.
Finding Sheri Winston’s 3 breath orgasm video.
Ordering Sheri Winston’s book.
And this snowball of clarity culminated in:
The Bodily Epiphany.
A night of such intense arousal that not only did I understand FUCK YES, I’VE BEEN MISSING A LOT, but I also understood that every orgasm I’ve ever had was forced.
And forcing sucks out the juicy.
Which, sucks.
And explains why I felt kinda sad and let down sometimes after sex.
Here’s the clincher: I told my lover that that was the best night of my life. So on some level, he gets that whatever he did, he did well.
However.
I didn’t exactly explain that I don’t ever want to force sex again. Or that my amazing night changed my mind about sex completely. As in, fuck having sex when I’m mildly interested. I want juicy, wild and uncontrollable desire.
And: I am willing to admit that I am a sexual beginner.
Even though I’ve been having sex for a long time, have all manner of sex toys, and am my circle of girlfriends’ go-to girl for sex talk.
I just want to be brave enough to admit all this to my lover.
And that’s where the truth comes in, because it’s scary for me to admit when something is less than perfect. I know why this is. But what’s more important is letting perfection go.
Just as important is owning what I know now, and taking the time to re-learn sex. Because I like to read about it, write about it, talk about it. The actual exploring part is where I feel hesitant – and I suppose rightly so. I realize I’m not sure where to start, and that’s difficult to admit to myself. Because in the past, it’s been a dry experience with a goal. And even now, I know it can all be different, and yet I still have a bit of a goal: I want to feel that incredibly alive again. All by myself, for the sheer pleasure of feeling that way and knowing it’s part of me. An accessible part of me.
It’s just that the goal part makes it feel like work. Or a pass/fail test.
Which isn’t incentive to play, let me tell ya.
So that’s where I am: telling the truth and starting over. And one way I’m telling the truth today: not wearin’ a bra. Yep, I’m at work. And yep, it’s probably obvious, because the girls are less padded than usual.
But I feel a lot more like me.
This week has seemed hard.
And I do realize that compared to those in Haiti, I’ve got it made. Compared to even my co-worker’s drama, I have it made.
Those thoughts haven’t made the constant teary eyes and frayed nerves feel any easier.
So, tonight, I have purchased smoked salmon, capers, heavy cream, pasta and balsamic vinegar to go with the fresh lemon, garlic and pesto I have at home. I’ve got the ingredients to make Pumpkin! Bread! and Muffins! for dessert and breakfast tomorrow.
Most importantly: I have Epsom salts and organic lavendar essential oil for my first soak in my new-to-me tub in my new-to-me apartment.
A mini-retreat, complete with sleeping in, no need to scrape the icy flakes from my windshield, and two good books.
I can feel the fresh, shiny, restored perspective already.
“What would happen if one woman told the truth about her life? …
The world would split open.” – Muriel Rukeyser
And, deep breath, here goes:
I run from our relationship because sometimes it feels easier to start over as the Me I Know Now, rather than clue you in to Who You Knew.
The more I learn about my patterns, the more overwhelmed I feel.
Most of the time, I’d rather be alone.
In fact, I crave taking a year, maybe more, of complete solitude to make sense of life. To feel restored as Me.
I don’t think I’d be lonely.
It bothers me that you’re so picky about vegetables.
While I do feel I am responsible for my orgasms, it would be nice to let you do everything more often. You know, like I do for you.
I am tired.
Even though I cut her out of my life, and feel I should be over it, I still wonder if she will ever ask where and how I’ve been.
Sometimes, life feels so easy.
Today? Unrelentless.
I wish I had the balls to never wear a bra, unless I wanted to wear one that’s sexy.
I could live in boxer shorts, tank tops and flops.
Why do we all try so hard to be the same, when it’s clearly not working?
I want to make more money.
I want to slide my body into a vat of red paint and press against a white canvas.
I’d like to make love to a woman.
My very soul craves bellydancing.
And dancing under a full moon.
Sometimes I wonder if I’m simply more kinky than those around me, or just further along on the discovery scale. Or perhaps their vanilla is my kink. Or they’re just doing something damn impressive with vanilla.
Every once in a while, I am quite sure that I would leave it all to go to massage school.
I want to ask her What She’s Thinking – why can’t she admit he sucks?
And then I remember: I can’t admit a lot, too.
I think it really comes down to power: The World doesn’t want women to have any. And then they wonder why women are powerless to leave shitty significant other’s.
It starts with the mother.
If a woman cannot set boundaries in her life, she is teaching her daughter the very same thing.
Emotional Intelligence would have been much more valuable to learn in college instead of Biology, or Algebra. Or pretty much anything else offered.
So, perhaps Barnes & Noble is as worthy a place of education as any college.
What would happen if pleasure for pleasure’s sake was admirable?
No guilt, no shame, no regret?
Ok, how about a week? A week of only choosing foods that light up your belly, a week of funny movies, happy conversations, bubble baths, candles and wine, gratuitous nudity and laughter….Could we do it? Could I?
That’s the next step in my life: Choosing pleasure, for the sake of pleasure. Relaxing into feeling good. Owning those feelings.
Believing that if it hurts, I’ll navigate to something that feels better.
Because I am allowed to feel good.
I am allowed to have needs, feelings, and the safety to express them.
I am allowed to value myself as much as I value Everyone Else.
A peek at my bookshelf as we blast into 2010:
Something More by Sarah Ban Breathnach, using a fancy sketchbook from Papaya Art
Princesses and Porn Stars: Sex, Power, Identity by Emily Maguire, my favorite author
Nonviolent Communication by Marshall Rosenberg
Dance of the Dissident Daughter by Sue Monk Kidd
The Lost Diary of Don Juan by Douglas Carlton Abrams
Intuitive Advisor by Mona Lisa Schulz
To Bed or Not to Bed by Steve and Vera Bodanksy, famous for the hour long orgasm workshops..
Healing Wise by Susun Weed
New Menopausal Years the Wise Woman Way also by the amazing Susun Weed
Vortex: Law of Attraction Assembles Cooperative Relationships by the Hicks and Abraham. My first Hicks/Abraham book, and I’m quite intrigued.
and
Meditation Secrets of Women Discovering Your Passion, Pleasure and Inner Peace by Camille Maurine. This is an ongoing, delicious read that is transforming my meditation practice and the way I relate to all of my life.
The Bonus Round:
Your Spacious Self: Clear Your Clutter & Discover Who You Are by Stephanie Bennett Vogt. This is a biggie for me. Clutter: Booooo! My soul loves space.
Women’s Anatomy of Arousal by Sheri Winston
and a fun DVD adventure from Annie Sprinkle: Sluts and Goddesses. 😉
It all started with a delicious Girl’s Night Out and a five hour conversation about relationships, gender, the state of feminism, sex, and personal growth.
Next came copious journaling and the start of a new book: The Return of Desire by Gina Ogden.
In the course of my Seduction journey, I’ve read my fair share of books on Better Sex. And most of them include sections about body image, cultural affects on sexuality, religion, and sexual abuse. So I’ve certainly perused my sexual history before, and of course, I’ve ranted and raved in journals about the ill affects of being raised in the Bible Belt where Abstinence Reigns.
I may have felt a little bored reading over those same sections in this book, until I started noticing personal trends I’d never thought about before. More writing. I meditated using her suggestions. And even though I’m new to the concept of integrating spirituality with sexuality, I started to realize how dramatically separate I’d always kept those parts of life.
Precisely because I’d been taught to.
I’d never really considered that an ecstatic sex life could be spiritually meaningful. I’d been very passionate about the need for an ecstatic sex life …. mostly because I wanted to feel normal. And normal people who weren’t fanatically religious like my family seemed to be satisfied with their sex lives, and subsequently, happier people. More relaxed, for sure.
But I realized this morning: maybe the religiously fanatical people dislike talking about sex because then they’d have to acknowledge the melting pot of paradoxical bullshit that they created to keep teenagers from having sex … or even healthy desire.
If you think sex is inherently wrong before being legally married, what do you do when you feel sexy while single?
I was operating from a place of wanting to be good for so long that internally, I equated no desire as being good. I spent my teenaged years in Fundamentalist Christian school covering up my cleavage, always being conscious of what I wore, trying not to give the wrong impression of myself. And by that I mean, the impression that I am a healthy, sensual woman, aware of her femininity and capable of feeling pleasure.
So when I started having sex, and wanted to have better sex, and dammit, to feel sexy, I felt weird because all of that felt new and uncomfortable. I remember journaling that it felt like a mask that didn’t quite fit.
I felt jealous of every woman who exuded sexuality.
Now in retrospect, I see that I was trying to prove to myself that I was capable of feeling – being – sexy. And the more I felt I failed at that, the harder I tried to get it right.
I didn’t want to fail at being a woman.
With all the anti-pleasure training, it had never occurred to me that we were all naturally sexy. I simply thought something was wrong with me in that department.
Because coupled with the religious bullshit was the more ‘normal’ insecurity of not feeling pretty.
Couldn’t tan because of my delicate fair skin – felt inferior.
Felt fat because the other girls in my class were so lithe – counted calories. (Turns out, all that ‘fat’ was actually a set of voluptuous hips that I’m now proud of.)
Shy, shy, so shy, could barely speak a word to any of my crushes. Meaning: no dates til maybe senior year.
As I’ve grown into my body and my femininity, I know that the more I find to love about my physical beauty, the more there is to love. And that feeling sexy is much sexier than looking sexy.
It’s possible that my mom never felt sexy. She’s never felt pretty, I know that. She’ll talk about that, but sexy isn’t something that’s talked about – she’s shy about showing her cleavage, even now. Maybe she doesn’t know what she’s missing.
So that I did know, and sought out desire, makes me feel grateful.
So, clearly, I sounded bitter talking about these friends who like to offer their advice and opinions on my love life.
I am, temporarily, feeling bitter.
But in the spirit of reclaiming power, and taking responsibility, I’ve also been thinking about the relationships I choose in my life, the people I attract as friends, and then how to shift toward relationships that empower me, not stress me.
Background: I enjoy solitude. I’m a woman who enjoys her close friends, and well, that’s it. I am friendly with lots of people, but I’m not one to share my life with too many people. And as I’m starting to understand, it’s because I require lots of down time to digest life and restore my sense of Self.
In the past, I haven’t made it a practice to seek out friends. Usually, it works like this: someone I’m around a lot starts chatting me up, until eventually we’re friends, and then we become close. And then that’s my person.
Basically, they choose me.
And I’ve been okay with that, because I know they like me, and that’s good.
Except, the power balance stays tilted in their respective direction, and I’m passively there for the company, the memories, the conversation – until I can chill alone again in peace.
So when that advice starts rolling in, I start to recoil because hey?! You chose me, right? I didn’t choose you, or this feedback. I was feeling safe before, and now, you’ve snatched that out from under me, and this sucks.
The problem is that because I’m attached to that person, I tend to let their words attach, as well.
And that blows.
Because their values, their words and ideas and life, aren’t mine. And don’t fit.
Which leads me to the realization that I must draw a line between myself and others, and operate from a sense of groundedness, such that My Values and Life aren’t affected by what They think. Havi and Hiro call this Sovreignty, defined by Havi as “…the quality of owning your space. It’s feeling so safe being you, that you can’t be shaken from yourself.”
That’s exactly what I want to cultivate. To me, it’s a serious feeling of groundedness, wherein I’m able to witness.
I’d also like to start over and pay more attention to creating relationships. Like, choosing more wisely, having a more balanced sense of power, and owning All of Me.
I think it’s about participating more. And knowing when it’s not worth it to me to participate …. and that’s okay.
I have to keep saying “it’s okay” because I’m too used to operating on “should.” I should be friends with everyone, I should like them because they like me, I should have a lot of friends. Blah. None of that is energizing or happy-making. Mostly because of the “should.”
And, I’m essentially re-creating my life. I feel like my life can be divided into two halves: B.C. (Before Consciousness) and A.D. (Awareness, Dude.) So now, I’m living in A.D., and a lot of unconscious patterns are coming to light. I’m letting go of What Sucks – a new feeling entirely – while reminding myself that it’s okay.
It’s a new Me, designed by Me.
And she’s fuckin’ sexy.
seriousWhimsy 